|Students at the old school premises, where Mr. Sagyam IAS had his primary education!|
On the other day I was busy making announcements to pupils who were about to board a van. We were at the Railway Station, Pudukkottai. We were on a educational trip to the station as the National Science Express was there.
As I was instructing the students to stand in a queue I saw him, once of my old students, he was shocked to see me at the unexpected place. I understood that he was returning from his polytechnic college. Instantaneously I remembered his nick name, Meatball!
Nick naming students has been a double edged sword. Some say it is outrageous, some others say it brings you closer to your students. I am usually not involved in this process. I presume calling a student by his nick name happens in two occasions. In normal occasions it do make me feel closer to the kids, but if it is done out of rage the it leaves a scar in the minds of the pupils.
Meatball happened to earn his name in a very strange occasion. Since I was taking English classes to the children of a rural Indian school. I had to in running special classes in the evening, after the regular school hours. It has to be done with care, with proper permissions both from the higher officials and from the parents. It is a thing that a teacher has to do with at most care. Any thing can go wrong at any time. By Gods grace so far no such incidents, because of the active participation of all the teachers of my school in this programme.
In one of those special classes a boy simply disappeared from the school premises. I did not have a clue where he might been. I had a little discussion among his friends and they told me he had gone home on his own! This enraged me. I took my bike and reached his home.
The streets of Indian villages are really a labyrinth, they become even more scary during the night. Some how I was able to locate his little hut, and called out his name. He came out, with a strange indescribable look in his face. His face reflected surprise, shock and disappointment. He was suppose to prepare for the public exams scheduled in the following day, but he was at his home!
I simply asked him, "Why are you here?".
Sir, Meat sir, Meat!
He could not say that properly as his mouth was stuck with a morsel of meat rice, and he had a meat ball in his hand.
He looked pathetic, and he kept on repeating these words " meatball sir , meat sir, meatball". Thus he earned his name.
I could not suppress my laughter and said, "O.K, Meatball come back to class".
Meatball faced his exam, came out with flying colours and pursued his education further in a private polytechnic.
And after a very long time I met him on the Railway station, with the same old looks and feelings flashing on his face.
May God Bless him!
wait for The street dance clown